The 66th and 68th Games- Through the eyes of others
by pochapal
Summary: A collection of one-shots featuring several scenes from the 66th Hunger Games and Surprises: The 68th Hunger Games as seen through the eyes of other characters.
1. Relief

I hear the muffled shouting in the distance. My district escort, calling me. I think I hear the word 'launch', but everything sounds so distant, I can't focus on sound. I shoot my eyes open, the only cooperative part of my body left. I glance around the blinding room. I wonder who's idea it was to give the room such clashing colours. The shouting becomes louder, she's probably come in to physically move me, like yesterday, and the day before that. And practically every day since I arrived in this colourful hell known as the Capitol.

Suddenly my perspective changes from sideways to vertical. She's actually lifted me.

"Honestly, you're so braindead, it's a wonder you're still breathing," I want to scowl at her, but I can't. The muscles in my face have long since stopped working. I see her pulling my outfit off, leaving me completely naked. I can't cover myself in modesty though, the drugs denied that long ago. The mere thought of them sends my body into another uncontrollable craving for the white syringe. You don't need it, I tell my body, but its obedience isn't there. It stayed at home with the syringes. I never even wanted this, to be a slave to an illegal substance. My abusive mother did this to me. She always wanted a son, and instead she got me. A girl that has her father's sandy blonde hair, not her mother's rich, dark hair. A girl that has her father's sky blue eyes, not her mother's deep green eyes. A girl that has her father's cute freckles over the bridge of her nose, not her mother's perfect complexion. In her eyes, I was a failure. And she went to all lengths to let me know this. She beat me when dad was at work. She told the parents of my friends that I did unmentionable things to my last friends. She made me take out the tesserae, enter my name more times into that bowl, even though we had no need for the disgusting grain. And after surviving last year's reaping, she began to inject me with the morphling. At first, it just dulled my senses, me not feeling the beatings, which was good. But after countless injections, the hallucinations started. Bizarre visions started to appear, such as my house being swarmed with kittens, and the lightbulb emitting a mulitcoloured fog. They grew in intensity until I couldn't move my body unless I _was_ hallucinating. And when my name was drawn at the reaping, my broken body could hear my mother's cheering.

I still remember my mother's last words to me after the reaping.

"I am going to enjoy watching you die on television. Let's hope the Careers brutally rip you limb from limb," No 'I love you', no 'I'm sorry', no 'Stay strong'. She just wants to see me get ripped apart by the other tributes. I don't want to give her that satisfaction. I see my escort's thrown an outfit onto me. At least it's simple. She carries me to the dining room, sitting me on a chair, and getting one of the silent slaves to spoonfeed me breakfast. In a way, we're both similar. We're incapable of expressing emotion, except for the pain shown in our eyes. Her eyes are full of pain and fear. I wonder if she reads my eyes. Once she leaves me, I look around. I see my district partner give me a look of pity. I'm gratefu that he actually cares about me. He steered me around the training centre, helping me with the various stations. The trainers tried to help me, but they knew what I figured out long ago. I won't last ten minutes in the arena. But my partner promised me that he wouldn't leave my side until my corpse was hauled out of the arena. I wanted to smile at that moment, but that simple action was yet again denied by my mother. If only she was the one about to be sent into a massive deathmatch that she probably wouldn't leave in one piece, let alone alive.

I'm moving again. This time, it's my district partner. He's guiding me down the hallway, telling me how I remind him of his little sister back home. He says we look almost identical. I really hope that his little sister'll see him come home alive, she's blessed with perhaps the most considerate person ever to be a big brother to her. I look at him, wanting to thank him for all he's done. Instead, he smiles at me, and apologises.

"I'm sorry you of all people have to go into this game. You're in no fit state to even walk downstairs, never mind fight for your life," I look at where we are. We're outside, a hovercraft waiting to send us into the entertaining death match known as the Hunger Games. Suddenly, I'm moving up into the hovercraft. I look down, and see my district partner.

"By the way, I heard your mother's yelling during the goodbyes, about how she wants a Career to hack you to pieces. Well, I'm gonna make sure she doesn't get that satisfaction," he says something else, but I'm too high to hear it.

I'm lifted inside the flying vehicle, and a strange woman holds something up. A syringe, filled with a white substance. No, not that. But my body recognises the image, and begins trembling, an insatiable hunger for the drug to flow freely through my veins.

"Calm down kid, this is just your tracker for the arena," she stabs it into my arm, and it's not morphling. My breathing slows, thankful that I won't die hallucinating things first seen when my mother forcefully brought them on. I'm brought into a chair, and I see the colourful buildings become a blip in the distance. I see rolling fields of green below. It's all very beautiful.. The windows black out, and darkness fills the room. Nothingness. Is this what being dead'll feel like? The lights switch on again, and the woman carries me into a room. She sits me down on a chair, and leaves me alone. I look at the scene in front of me. There's a big timer on the wall counting down how long I have before I'll be lifted up into the bloodbath. A brown woman walks in, holding something black. It's my stylist.

"I guess I'll have to dress you this time as well," she practically spits the venomous words at me, her blue saliva getting on my face. She pulls the clothes off me, and begins sliding my arena outfit onto my body, "Honestly, I selected District 6 because I expected decent tributes, but instead I get a braindead freak," she zips the jacket up, and throws me onto the platform in the corner, "Have fun dying," that makes two people that can't wait to see my gory demise. Both women that think of me as a disappointment. I stand in the middle of the platform, watching the clock count down.

5. I'm going to die.

4. My mother's gonna see what she always wanted to see.

3. No, my district partner's gonna see that that doesn't happen.

2. He promised, right?

1. Don't doubt him. He wouldn't have spent the past week by my side if he wasn't going to protect me the best he could.

The platform begins to rise, lifting me through a dark tube. I don't know how high I'm going. Finally, sunlight. I see the clear blue sky, and the Cornucopia's golden shine. I see my district partner, looking at me. He seems worried. The I see it. A Career boy, holding something, and looking directly into my eyes. He throws the wooden ball in his hands right towards me. I see what's going to happen. It's going to hit my plate causing it to blow up. Perhaps the quickest and easiest death out there. It hits my numb body, and it slowly rolls towards the edge of my plate, to the explosives. I should be terrified right now, but I'm not. I'm relieved. Relieved that I'll die in the easiest way. My mother won't see me getting hacked to shreds. And then something I never thought could happen. I feel my mouth contort into a smile. A smile that is thanking the Career for choosing this method of death. A smile that mocks my mother, knowing my end won't be slow and painful. A smile that reaches my father, telling him I still love him.

I hear a booming voice. It's the announcer, Claudius Templesmith.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the sixty sixth annual Hunger Games begin!"

BOOM


	2. Happily Ever After

**Elektra Sparke, 17, District 3 Victor**

My eyes burst open, welcoming the sunlight shining through the window. It helps to remind me that the world isn't entirely made of darkness. I slide out of my massive bed, and try to forget my latest nightmare.

I was back in the arena, being held by the fleshy faceless sewer monster, watching as Kathrynn, the female tribute from District 12, brutally maul Samuel, my district partner. I wipe away the newly formed tears, and put my slippers on. It's the longest day of the year, yet I've still managed to wake with the sun. I check my clock. It's just past five in the morning. At least I managed to sleep throughout the night. I walk over to my dresser, and look at the pictures laying on top of it. They're of me on my victory tour, each picture in a different location, the 12 districts plus the Capitol. I look at the one of me in my home district, District 3. I'm smiling and waving to the crowd, the clear blue sky shining above the central square. I look out of my window, towards town, and see the drastic changes that have occured in the past two years since I was reaped for the Hunger Games. Since that fateful day, the demands from the Capitol have rapidly increased, tripling the amount of factories, causing a toxic cloud of smog to continually loom over most of the district, the victors' village being one of the few places unaffected by the intense polluting air.

I walk into my bathroom, and quickly wash up for today. There is an air of importance about today, but I can't seem to remember. I get dressed in what I call my 'comfort' outfit; a loose lounging outfit. I always wear it when I've been woken by horrific nightmares. I grab the book I was reading last night, and sit down to continue where I left off. Reading has now become a past time of mine; it helps me escape from reality in a sane manner. It's about a young girl that escapes from her tormenting life, and finds a handsome man that whisks her away to her dream reality. They live happily ever after, with two children and a few pets. It's ironic that the few books the Capitol allows people to read always end happily ever after, the main character enduring a hardship, then escaping to the life they've always dreamed of. In a roundabout way, it's probably a message to the districts, that this is the life we could have had if we hadn't blown it by rising against our tormentors. And speaking from experience, I know hardships never end happily ever after. Instead, they leave a broken mess that's all but dead to the world, wishing that they never had the misfortune of being born.

I close my book, placing it back on the shelf. Out of all people, I am one of the few that has essentially achieved the happy ending. But I haven't. I'm still trapped in the confines of the district, it's just that my prison cell has been coated with glitter. And I'll never find love and start a family; it's suicide being a victor and having a child, as they're guaranteed a place in the Hunger Games. The Capitol loves it when a victor's kid is thrown into the arena. Almost all of the time, they never make it out of the arena alive, with the exception of being a Career, but the odds are entirely in their favour anyway; they train for the Games starting the day after their first reaping.

It's now seven, so I make my way out of my bedroom, casually glancing at the calender pinned on the wall. My heart drops to my stomach when I see today's date; reaping day. Another pair of children'll be sent to their slaughter, and to make matters worse, I'll be mentoring them, alongside my fellow mentor, Beetee. He won his Hunger Games close to thirty years ago. He doesn't seem to be haunted by memories of the arena, unless his erratic twitchy nature counts. But he manages to hide all that behind a calm mask when dealing with the tributes. I respect him for that, because in his own way, he's showing he won't let the Capitol get to him.

I walk downstairs with heavy feet. I'm not ready to try and give hope to two kids that have been sentenced to their doom. I didn't mentor last year, and I'm glad for it. Both the tributes met horrifying ends; the male's head was blown clean off at the bloodbath, and the female was fooled by the 12 year old girl from District 4. At least her death alerted a swarm of tracker jackers that engulfed her tiny murderer.

I walk into the kitchen, and prepare myself some breakfast, but the anxiety has eaten my appetite up. I'm more nervous than the day I was reaped. It won't be me going into the arena, it'll be two kids that have no experience of surviving in a hostile environment. A horrible thought suddenly creeps into my brain. What if Rose, my best friend, is reaped? The Capitol would lap that up; me trying to keep my best friend alive, knowing her death would destroy me. But that's how they like their undesirable victors, broken and dead to the world. They have various ways of doing this; slip some alcohol through their door, introducing the destructive Morphling drug into their lives, forced prostitution with the disgusting citizens of the Capitol, or their personal favourite; sending someone close to them into the arena. Either way, they'll do whatever it takes to break you. That's why they must hate Beetee; after all these years they haven't broken him. I've learnt that they've thrown everything they could at him. They publicly executed his family on the grounds that they were conspiring to start an uprising. They even went as far as sending all his friends into the arena; he won at the age of sixteen, so they managed to send roughly six unfortunate kids to their deaths. But he never let them destroy him, he rebelled until they had nothing left to use against him. If it came to that with me, I don't think I could resist the Capitol if they threatened to kill anyone close to me.

I'm suddenly aware of a sound, and I tense up. I breathe a sigh of relief when I realise it's just my mother coming downstairs.

"Good morning, Elektra," she says, preparing her own breakfast, "Sleep well?"

"Yes, I slept the whole night," I reply. I really hate her knowing about the nightmares that ravage my sleep. I glance at the clock again. Half nine. I hear a noise from outside, and I can tell straight away what it is, the thick Capitol accent is hard to miss. The front door bursts open, and my prep team stroll in. Apparently, you don't lose your prep team once you get out of the arena; you have to have them for your victory tour, and for your first year mentoring.

"Good morning!" Lyra, her arms adorned with harps, skips towards me, crushing me with her embrace, "I've missed you so much! Of course, you can guess how _thrilled_ I was when I heard the news I was to prep you for your first year of mentoring! In fact, I was so excited, I had to settle with _gems_ for that evening instead of stars! But it was worth it, looking less fabulous, because I get to see _you_ again!" she lets out a giddy squeak.

"I've missed you too." I say, wriggling out of the deathgrip. As soon as I do, all three herd me into my bathroom, and rip my clothes off. The makeover session begins with them rubbing a pink lliquid all over my body. They then mummify me in wax strips, tearing it all off in one swift motion. Tears prick my eyes as I'm left red and sore for what feels like the millionth time in my life. They apply a powder on my shoulder that removes all traces of the stitching done when I got out of the arena. It forms a circle around the top of my arm, like an armband. It turns out that whilst having the recovery operation, my loose arm fell off my body. It was a close call, but they managed to save it. Still, I'm self conscious about it, since it's a telltale reminder of my arena experiences. That is one of the only things I like being 'treated' by my colourful prep team. I pretend to listen as they ramble on about how they recieved _oak_ tables instead of mahogany ones. I just smile and nod as they do my hair in an elaborate style that I could never replicate. Finally, they put me in a flowing white dress, and declare that I'm now presentable to the world.

It takes everything I've got, but I manage to convince my prep team that I will be fine walking to the reaping alone. It feels awkward in these shoes, but I walk out of the mansion, and head towards the central square for the reaping. I pass by the queue of children as their fingers are pricked and they're herded into age groups. I have to stop myself from joining the queue; old habits die hard. Instead, I walk around the square, entering from behind the justice building, they already have the transportation taken care of for the tributes, and sit in one of the chairs on stage. There are three to choose from, since our district only has three living victors. Old Antony died of a heart attack last winter, and the other seven also passed away over the years. Now there's only me, Beetee, and Wiress left alive. There were three other victors after Beetee, not including Wiress and myself, but they all took their own lives after being unable to cope with the trauma of being a victor.

"Good afternoon." A voice startles me. It's Beetee, who'll share the job of being mentor to this year's tributes with me.

"Yes, but there's nothing good at all about today," I reply, "I don't want to have the job of sugarcoating the imminent deaths of two of these kids." He's about to say something when Wiress joins us. She says nothing, just looks sombre as she stares fixedly into the crowd. I wonder what the Capitol did to break her.

Suddenly, the mayor walks over to the podium centre stage, and begins the same speech heard every year, how Panem rose from North America's ruins, how the districts rebelled, and how the Hunger Games are a sign of submission and loyalty. The speech goes on forever, and the mayor's voice is annoying to listen to. It's monotone and nasally, and the party here during the victory tour was unbearable since he kept talking to me, and I couldn't understand most of what he said. If only we were richer, like Districts 1 and 2. They have a projected film shown to them, instead of their mayor droning on and on. I'm actually relieved to hear Rory Parksson's high pitched trill when the mayor steps off the podium, and he steps on.

"Welcome, welcome. Welcome to the sixty eighth annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!" he squeaks like he does every year. I see he changed his fiery red colour scheme to a forest green one this year, his hair done in such a way it seems as if vines are wrapping themselves around his head. He then teeters over to the glass ball full of names on the far side of the stage. "Ladies first!"

I look up at the perpetually grey sky. I don't want to see the name being drawn. Don't want to see the poor child make their way to the stage.

"Magnum Flowes!" I let out a sigh. It's not Rose. I turn to see a golden haired girl make her way to the stage. I see her exchange a terrified glance with someone in the male crowd, and he mirrors her look. Her bright green eyes begin to well with tears, and she focuses her gaze elsewhere.

"And now, for the boys!" our pile of vegetation formerly known as a district escort shoves his hand deep into the bowl, and pulls out a slip.

"Veris Sphene!" Veris Sphene. I know that name. We used to share a few classes in school, but we never really interacted. He walks to the stage, his pale face devoid of any emotion. It's then that it strikes me. His eyes are the exact same as the eyes of the District 4 girl that nearly killed me back in my games. I pinch my arm to bring myself back to reality. The two tributes are now shaking hands, the crowd performing the mandatory applause. The Peacekeepers arrive on stage, directing the pair to the justice building for the goodbye hour. A Capitol attendant calls me and Beetee over, and we climb into a long black car. We set off from the square, headed for the train station. As it draws into view, I begin to panic. It's the exact same train used when I was a tribute. The same train I learned about my late district partner Samuel lying about his age to feed his starving family. At least they got the food on the twelve monthly parcel days for the whole district. I'm suddenly aware I'm shaking, and Beetee puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder as we get out. I walk onto the platform as the cameras snap a few pictures of us. It'll be nothing compared to what the two tributes'll get, since one of them might come home with a crown. And I imagine it would be the highest honour to have taken a picture of a future victor. I climb the silver steps, and make my way to my cabin. It's far more luxurious than the tribute cabin. It almost looks like an exact replica of one of the bedrooms in the victor's mansion. I sit down on the bed, and dwell upon the thought I've had since the reaping.

How am I going to get one of these two children out alive?


	3. Deceived

**Quinna Relling, 15, District 8 Tribute**

The black glass that surrounds my tube is suffocating. I can't see anything, but I can hear everything. The sound of water washing up against something, a slight breeze, and the nervous sounds of the other tributes, each one less than a minute away from certain death. It's now that I realise it.

I'm going to die in this arena, but whether or not that's now or later will be decided in due time. Although, I'm better off than some tributes. Me, Flax, Ella, and Kyle have all managed to join an alliance of four, which is pretty high, and will most likely mean that we'll survive longer. The Capitol tends to sponsor large alliances, don't they? Or am I mistaken? No, I can't be. The last time someone won from 8, they were in an alliance of seven, and she survived by planting seeds of doubt into her allies, leading them to kill each other in suspicion. Their noise attracted the Careers, and she used her bow to take them all out from her vantage point in the trees. But I won't do that to my allies. We're all pretty good friends, despite the small amount of time we've known each other.

**5**

The metallic voice which had been previously just droning on increases in volume. Only five seconds left until the bloodbath begins, and innocent children begin to die. Panic wells up inside me, and take deep breaths. I've got to remain calm. I can't lose it. Not now. Kyle, Flax, and Ella will be there. I can meet up with them, and we'll survive.

**4**

The voice rings out again, this time surprising me. I begin to shake, and I feel tears welling up. What if I die? There's every chance I'm surrounded by two Careers, and what's to stop them from killing me the moment the Games begin?

**3**

There's not much time left now. I must remain focused, and meet up with my allies. Even if I'm too scared to do anything, Kyle will know what to do. After all, he's a sharp shooter with a bow, and brilliant with swords. Even if one of us is in danger, he will be able to help us out.

**2**

My heart is now pounding in my chest, and I'm beginning to feel faint. This isn't good. If I faint, I'll be as good as dead. And I can't let that happen. Not if I want to come home alive.

**1**

I feel dizzy as the countdown ends, and place a hand on the glass tube to steady myself. As I do this, I realise that I can smell salt in the air. Salt? That's odd. But that probably means that the arena is near the ocean. My eyes widen as I think of something. What if the arena is just a massive ocean, with the only land being the platforms? Then, suddenly, the glass I've been leaning on shatters, and I begin to fall as Claudius Templesmith's voice booms throughout the arena.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, let the sixty eighth annual Hunger Games begin!"_

The light is blinding, but I'm still falling. As my eyes adjust to the daylight, I catch a glimpse of the girl from 5 running past me, before I fall to the floor. The sand is soft, and cushions my fall. Mostly. I've landed on my arm, and a sharp pain is running through it. But it can't be broken; I wouldn't be able to use the knife that I have been training so much with during the three days in the Capitol. If it is broken, then I'm all but dead.

Clenching my teeth, I put all my weight on my injured arm, and stand up. It's not as bad as I thought it would be. Now that I'm able to move, I take in the battlefield in front of me. The tributes are still running off their plates, and two of them have gotten into a fist fight. I also notice how there aren't any supplies on the ground. A sinking feeling grows in my chest. That means that we'll have to get to the mouth of the Cornucopia if we have any hope of survival.

I take a tentative step forward, noticing that none of the tributes are bothering with me. I take this as a good sign, and continue to slowly walk forwards, before a figure shoots past me. It's the girl from District 4, heading for the mouth of the golden horn. Judging from her speed, she'll get there first, and once she gets a weapon, it'll be all over for a few tributes.

She continues to rush forwards, passing the small girl from District 6, and reaches the mouth of the golden horn. Her face lights up as she takes another step forward, her arms outstretched as she prepares to grab one of the several spears carefully placed in the Cornucopia. Then, all hell breaks loose.

_**BOOM!  
BOOM!  
BOOM!  
BOOM!  
BOOM!**_

Explosion after explosion sounds out as a ring of smoke erupts around the Cornucopia. In reality, this is only taking about a second, but it seems to be happening in slow motion as the explosive ring closes in on the girl from 4. She has just enough time for her facial features to contort into one of sheer horror, and her mouth opens to shout something; probably her district partner's name, as he is also looking just as horrified. But she never gets to shout the name, as the explosions finally reach her.

_**BOOM!  
BOOM!  
BOOM!**_

The girl from 4 disappears from sight as a cloud of smoke covers the entirety of the massive golden horn. However, just as I begin to realise that this probably means that all the supplies have just gone up in smoke, blackened bags and weapons rain down.

I barely avoid a throwing knife as it falls from the sky, landing in the soft sand below, and begin to slowly back away from the supplies that now litter the surrounding area. For a moment, I remain still, until I catch sight of Flax, who is running for one of the knives.

"Flax!" I suddenly cry out, and run towards him. At first he seems startled, until he sees who it is.

"Quinna!" He yells back, picking up the knife, "Any sign of Kyle or Ella?"

"None yet," I say in response, closing the gap between us. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," He replies, his eyes darting around. I look to the Cornucopia, and see the Careers grabbing weapons.

"Well, we don't have long to find them," I say, "The Careers have got some weapons." As soon as I say this, Flax's eyes widen, and his breathing becomes laboured.

"We have to get out of here." He says, and takes my hand, "Come on! We'll stay for one more minute, before heading to the woods!" I nod in response, and we run around the carnage the unfolds.

Flax suddenly stops, and I see the boy from 3 run past us, and right into the boy from 1. His head is sliced off before he even knows what happened. I barely stifle a scream, but Flax remains calm, determined to find Ella and Kyle before the bloodbath casualties rack up. We continue to run along the sand, seeing a few tributes beginning to run into the trees. They're the smart ones, and here we are, looking for our allies. But we need them to survive; they're our friends, and we can't abandon them. I look ahead, and see Ella on the floor, picking up a charred slingshot from the ground, sand in her thick dark hair, and nudge Flax, pointing to her. His face lights up, but whilst he looks at her, I see something.

The boy from District 4 is running right at us, armed with a large trident. I let go of Flax's hand, and let out a horrified scream. I glance at Ella, and see that she's also noticed the horror.

"Flax!" I scream, my voice strangled and raw. This catches his attention, and he turns to face me, confused at what I'm screaming at. And before he's even aware of his fate, the tips of the trident burst from his stomach, blood bursting at me. Flax's eyes glaze over, and he falls to the ground, dead.

My entire body goes numb as I run towards Ella. Flax is dead. I can't believe it. There is no way he should be dead; he was always so calm and collected. Tears are now pouring down my face as I get closer to Ella, and I hear a scream. It's not her, so I don't bother to look at who it was.

"Quinna!" Ella cries out, and runs towards me, burying herself in my chest, shaking. The poor thing must be terrified, witnessing Flax die before her. She's only twelve, and she's already seen too much horror for one so young. As we remain in this embrace, I see the boy from 2 coming closer.

"Ella! Run!" I yell at her, and Ella's eyes widen as she lets go of me, turning to face the boy from 2. He's armed with a sword, and there's blood-lust in his eyes. He swings the sword at Ella, missing her, and in response, she loads her slingshot with a pebble from the beach, launching the projectile at him. It completely misses him, and he simply laughs, before delivering a kick to her stomach. She doubles over in pain, and falls to the floor. I can't do anything but watch in horror as he walks over to her, and lifts his sword

I scream in terror as the sword comes down, striking Ella's tiny skull. Her entire head splits down the middle, and blood flows from the two segments as her skull cracks. I turn away to prevent myself from seeing the full extent of the horror, and feel my stomach churn. Half of our alliance is already dead, which only leaves me and Kyle. I have to find him.

With speed I wasn't aware I possessed, I dart past the increasing pile of corpses, looking for my only remaining ally. But there's no sign of him. More tears flow down my cheeks as I begin to tremble. I don't want to be here. I want to go home.

As I feel myself on the verge of completely breaking down, I spot something. It's Kyle, running towards me, with a sword and bag. He found me! And he has supplies and weapons! We'll survive; I won't die here.

"Kyle!" I exclaim, more joy than I ever imagined possible, and run towards him, "Kyle! You're alive!" He remains silent, and continues to run towards me, expressionless. It's probably due to all the horrors he's seen in the past five minutes. But that doesn't matter; we've met up, and we'll survive. Kyle's stronger than Flax and Ella, and will be able to fight off the Careers. A smile bursts onto my face at the sudden hope, and tears of joy explode from my eyes.

That feeling is quickly removed by a feeling of intense agony in my chest.

I can't do anything but look in horror as Kyle drives his sword into my chest, a sadistic grin on his face. What just happened? Has he really just stabbed me? No, this can't be Kyle! He wouldn't do this!

"What's the matter?" He says with a smirk, "Thought you'd be safe?" My eyes grow wide. This is definitely Kyle. "Well, perhaps you should've paid attention in training. I got in with the Careers on the first day, Quinna." A whimper escapes my lips as the pain grows in intensity, but it's nothing compared to what I'm feeling mentally. Betrayal doesn't even come close. "That whole alliance? That was just a ruse to lead you guys to your doom, should you survive the bloodbath." I'm vaguely aware of fresh tears flowing down my face, but I feel myself go weak. "See you in hell." Kyle delivers one final push, before the pain explodes in my chest, and I feel blood flying from my mouth.

I'm aware of Kyle taking out the sword, and I then fall to the ground, feeling nothing as everything becomes a blur. I was betrayed; deceived, all by the one I thought I could trust. I can still vaguely hear Kyle's laughter as he stands over me, and it is the accompanying soundtrack to everything fading away, and my soul leaving this world.


End file.
